


Crop Tops & Applesauce

by ourcrashdownblue



Series: Multi-Dimensional Wavelength of Celestial Intent [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Play, Age Play Little Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Baker!Dean, Collars, Consensual Kink, Daddy Kink, Dean Winchester Feels, Dean Winchester Gets a Hug, Dean Winchester Has a Panty Kink, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feminization, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Gentle Sex, Infantilism, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Married Sex, Oral Sex, Panties, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Professor!Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Trans Castiel (Supernatural), Trans Male Character, because apparently I can't write porn WITHOUT feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24654994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourcrashdownblue/pseuds/ourcrashdownblue
Summary: When his husband comes home from work already deep in his subspace/a potential subdrop, Castiel is more than a little confused.  But Dean needs him so, of course, Castiel will take care of his baby boy.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Rowena MacLeod/Sam Winchester (mentioned)
Series: Multi-Dimensional Wavelength of Celestial Intent [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1869910
Comments: 10
Kudos: 211





	Crop Tops & Applesauce

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own or reserve any rights! Hope you enjoy!

Castiel Novak-Winchester ran a hand through his ruffled hair, squinching the dryness from his eyes. He read over the revised lecture notes he had clacked out on his keyboard in his hour-long typing onslaught. Dean always teased him about the way that once Castiel got an idea he felt the compulsion to write it down and write it _all_ down _immediately_. While Cas thought it was a rather annoying habit of his, Dean insisted on calling it his “sexy-professor-mode”.

Castiel had planned on whipping up a pot of spaghetti with pesto for dinner, he’d been on an Italian food kick the last few days. And he would’ve had it done just in time for Dean to get home had he not gotten distracted. Looked like grilled cheese and leftover manicotti would make up their bounty tonight.

He curled and uncurled his toes where they brushed against the armrest. Castiel had sprawled out lengthwise across their couch, computer starting to burn his thighs where it was perched on his lap. He yawned and drew his knees up, balancing the laptop between his chest and legs hoping that would adequately vent its little fan. Just a couple more sentences--

Castiel heard the familiar rumble of the Impala’s engine and the squeak of their garage door. He tried to piston out the last few thoughts he’d had. He was so close to wrapping his notes up and maybe--if he had everything finished up by the time Dean had dropped all his stuff at the door--Castiel could entice his husband into a little impromptu make-out session on the couch before they started dinner.

Dean’s key clicked in the door leading in from the garage, and Castiel heard the tell-tale sounds of Dean hooking his keys on the rack. Then came the scuffle of Dean’s boots hitting the tray and Castiel tried to pick up the pace of his typing, promising himself that he’d clean up the appalling grammar later. When his husband’s broad-shouldered body came around the corner into the living room Castiel felt himself starting to smile as he continued typing.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel called without looking up.

Dean tossed his flannel over his recliner--perhaps the most ungodly comfortable piece of furniture Castiel had ever sat in and the setting for more than one late-night handjob--leaving him clad in a purple Henley. Dean carried a backpack to and from the bakery that held his laptop, the lunch he packed for himself, as well as the notebook he carried everywhere with him in case inspiration for a new recipe suddenly struck him ( _“I swear, pie is your mistress, Dean.” “And a delicious one at that, angel.”_ ). That too was set on the recliner.

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw his husband shuffle over toward the couch. Those broad shoulders were slumped, and his usually perky nature seemed bogged down. Instead of flopping down into the space on the couch between the armrest and Castiel’s drawn-up legs, Dean sat down on the floor at Castiel’s side. Dean let his eyes flutter shut and he nosed at Castiel’s crooked knee, a lowly, tired hum leaving his husband’s body on an exhale.

Castiel immediately closed his computer, brow furrowed. This was...odd. Dean had clearly had a challenging day...but even still. One of the many things Castiel had learned in the fourteen years of knowing the freckled giant beside him was that Dean’s gut-reaction to stress was anger. It was something that had caused more than one argument between them but was something Castiel was proud of his husband for having reined in over the years. Dean had grown leaps and bounds in the expressing-yourself-with-your-words department since they’d first met...which made this reaction all the more unsettling.

Castiel set his laptop on the coffee table on the other side of Dean but kept their positions as is. Even with his eyes still closed, Dean’s face was riddled with tension. His eyes crinkled at the sides where they were slightly squeezed, a worried crease between his eyebrows, and his lower lip jutted out in a nearly unnoticeable fashion. Though he was wholly unsure of what had chewed up his husband and spat him back out, Castiel was more than willing to be the disaster relief. 

Castiel slipped the black-framed glasses off Dean’s face, setting them on top of his laptop. Dean had been endlessly annoyed that his near-sightedness had finally gotten to the point that warranted glasses. It’d taken some cajoling--and the idea of Dean accidentally damaging Baby because he couldn’t see a deer hop onto the road--before he finally broke down and got the glasses. And damned if Castiel didn’t love reminding Dean that _he_ thought the glasses were sexy at least.

He brought a calm hand down to card through Dean’s sandy hair. It was getting long and would probably need a cut soon. Castiel did not miss the beautiful way Dean’s eyelashes fluttered open and looked at him with such vulnerability, keening into the touch. Whatever had happened, it’d one a number on the man.

“Was it a trying day, love?” Castiel asked. But Dean didn’t meet the remark with the usual snappy one-liner, he just nodded against the hand in his hair and let his cheek fall against Castiel’s dress pant-covered thigh. Castiel found himself already missing his husband’s usual sarcasm, “Did you and Garth get into an argument?”

Dean and his childhood friend Garth co-owned the bakery. Garth Fitzgerald IV was perhaps one of the kindest most considerate human beings Castiel had ever met, so it seemed unlikely that Garth could’ve sent Dean into such melancholia. But Castiel wasn’t quite sure where all of this was coming from if not work.

Dean shook his head, eyes on the ground as he fiddled with a loose thread in the hem of his shirt.

“Is something the matter with Sam?”

Dean shook his head harder at the mention of his brother who was four states and a phone call away from their home in Lawrence.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Dean shook his head again and let his forehead fall back into his husband’s side. This was, frankly, starting to worry Castiel. Dean never acted this nearly ever, unless…

“No, Daddy.”

Of course, Castiel wasn’t sure why he hadn’t noticed sooner. Dean was usually only _ever_ this shy and quiet when Castiel had him wrapped up in his ducky towel while they watched Scooby-Doo after they’d taken a bath--usually a few hours of Playtime. But if his husband was this far gone already, the poor man had probably been fighting this drop into this headspace all afternoon.

Castiel slowly sat up and was sure to keep his hand on Dean as silent reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere, merely changing position. As soon as Castiel was upright with his back to the couch, he spread his knees a little and motioned his boy into the V of his legs.

“C’mere, baby boy,” Castiel cooed. Dean quickly shuffled over so that Castiel’s muscular thighs bracketed his shoulders. Castiel ran his fingers down from the bolt of his baby’s jaw, tilting his chin up, “There are those beautiful green eyes. Can I have a kiss? Daddy missed you today.”

A light flush made the freckles a Dean’s cheeks stand out. The corner of his lips kicked up in a little smile. Dean nodded as Castiel leaned down to give his baby a grounding kiss while he continued stroking his grown-out hair.

“Missed you, too, Daddy.”

Castiel tipped their foreheads together, closing his eyes. He tried with all his might to will Dean all the infinite love his husband usually squirmed away from when Castiel tried to verbalize it. He felt a wash of gratitude at the fact that this incredible man trusted him so much. It had taken a lot to get here.

Dean had had a tumultuous childhood to say the least. John Winchester had been a barely functioning alcoholic in most of Dean’s earliest memories and a tangible void after he and Mary had gotten a divorce when Dean was in Kindergarten. Dean had grown up too quick in the aftermath. For the longest time at the beginning of their acquaintance, Castiel had actually assumed that Dean’s father was dead since Dean hardly ever talked about him and only in the past tense. He’d eventually gotten the whole story about John moving a few states away, joining AA, starting a new family, and all but abandoning Mary and his sons. In recent years John had gotten back in contact first with Sam, and then Dean. And though it was still very much an open wound, Castiel was infinitely proud of his husband for trying to enjoy what semblance of a relationship he could have with his father. But, then again, there were few things for which Castiel was _not_ proud of his husband.

His heart still clenched at the honor he felt from being able to provide a haven like this for Dean--that Dean always felt safe enough to let his guard down with Castiel. Dean--as Castiel well knew, and Dean would never fully believe--deserved all the love he could shower upon his husband and more.

When he pulled back to get a long look at the man, Dean’s head came down to rest on the pillow of Castiel’s thigh. Castiel gave a soft smile when he noted that a great deal of the tension in his baby boy’s shoulders and features had already melted away.

Dean shuffled closer on his knees until he could bury his face in Castiel’s stomach and sling his arms around the shorter man’s waist.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Castiel spoke quietly in the silent room.

“I dunno...” Dean’s voice was muffled in Castiel’s button-down, “need you, Daddy.”

“You have me, baby,” Castiel said, continuing to thread his fingers in the soft strands, “Would you like Daddy to give you some options?”

Dean nodded against him. Castiel gave a small hum as he flipped through his mental index of all of Dean’s favorite Little activities--sexy and otherwise.

“How about this...I take you up to bed, we get you into your softest jammies, and then I feed you your dinner in bed while we cuddle--” Dean gave a small, happy hum at that and Castiel’s heart beamed at the sound, “or Daddy can get you all squirmy from his kisses, make you come for me...and _then_ I can feed you in bed. Which would you like, sweetheart?”

Dean let out a rumbling groan at that and Castiel smirked. He knew his baby boy so well.

“I wanna be all squirmy, Daddy,” Dean giggled into Castiel’s stomach.

Castiel chuckled along with him, “Good boy.”

Dean shifted a little in his place.

“Can I…” Dean began but halted.

“Yes, baby?”

“C-Can I please...wear my collar?”

Castiel ran a hand down his baby boy’s back, letting his blunt nails scrape over the cotton on the way back up.

“Sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“A-And panties?”

Castiel purred at the thought, he _adored_ Dean in panties.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

~

In one arm Castiel held the food selections he had picked for their dinner in bed, and his opposite hand firmly held Dean’s as they made their way up the stairs. At the top of the landing, Castiel unclasped their hands and stroked his baby’s hair.

“Can you go in the bathroom and get washed up for me?” Castiel instructed, “Get all cleaned up so Daddy can play with you with his fingers later. Would you like that, baby boy?” 

Dean shot his daddy a shy smile and nodded, giving Castiel a sweet kiss on the cheek before heading into the ensuite bathroom.

Once he reached their bedroom, Castiel dropped the kitchen supplies onto the top of the dresser. He arranged all of the aftercare items so that they were readily available when needed. He heard Dean shuffle out of the ensuite and gave him a coy smile as he did one last thing. 

Grabbing his phone out of his pocket, Castiel connected it to the Bluetooth speaker they had on their nightstand. He shuffled through his Spotify until he found it: _Dean’s Top Baby Makin’ Traxx_. Castiel chuckled again at the ironic title and hit ‘play’ before setting the phone done. The soft, steady thrumming of Robbie Dupree’s “Steal Away” seeping into the air. Time to give his baby his full attention.

When Cas turned back to look at Dean, his baby boy had his arms draped loosely across his chest, eyes looking down at the carpet and a beautiful grin on his lips. Suddenly, Castiel’s arms felt too empty. Castiel closed the short distance between them, looping around his baby’s waist and pulling them tightly together. Dean’s head dropped down to his husband’s shoulder, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck. Castiel hummed at the familiar tickle of Dean’s breath against the pulse point on his neck. Castiel swayed them lightly in place, his own day’s stress drifting away as Dean melted in his arms.

When the song’s last chords gave way to Bowie’s “Starman”, Castiel leaned back to catch his boy’s eye. Dean’s moss green gaze was every bit as open as a puppy’s and Castiel couldn’t help but give his baby one more quick kiss.

“Stay right here,” Castiel said as he drew out of the embrace, “I’ll go get your Playtime clothes.” 

Dean nodded, beaming.

Castiel hauled down the cardboard box Dean had also seen fit to ironically label as “Tax Stuff” ( _“What if Sammy comes over and sees it? Consider it boring camouflage. Bore-o-flage. Come one, you know you wanna say it.”_ ) from the top shelf of their closet. Under what circumstance Dean expected his younger brother to root around in their bedroom closet, Castiel had no guess.

He set the Playtime box on the closet’s floor and rifled past the toys--both of the sexy and non-sexy variety--and down to the folded clothing items below. Castiel took the faux-leather collar off the top of the clothing and slid the loop onto his wrist. Next, selected a pair of dark magenta, silk panties with a tiny bow at the front. These were one of Dean’s favorite and more comfortable pairs. Lastly, Castiel pulled out a black, worn-soft Batman crop-top from the assortment of other themed tops Dean had had a blast picking out for occasions like this when his little space and his subspace seemed to blend together.

It had been Dean’s hard-learned, and fiercely ingrained independence that had him uncomfortable with the idea of trying out any kind of dominant/submissive dynamic in the bedroom at first. Castiel had first suggested the idea after noticing how much Dean enjoyed being held down during any form of intimacy, and the sheer bliss Dean had experienced when they decided to try out handcuffs as a way to celebrate their eight-year anniversary. After _much_ further discussion, and the writing out of ‘wish lists’...they’d started out slow. Dean’s love for their new-found roles even ended up exceeding the enjoyment Castiel had anticipated. They had both been more than a little surprised to discover that Dean got all hot and bothered by calling Cas “Daddy”—and that Castiel had come in his pants the first time Dean had blurted out the moniker. Together they'd ventured into pet play, age play, costumes (including one _very_ memorable night with a Zorro mask), and light bondage. They’d eventually found that the most enjoyable scenes for both of them usually had a little bit of everything and didn’t strictly fall into any one category of play. But in these, their Daddy/Little roles--which had taken even longer for Dean to warm up to--they found their most gratifying scenes.

Castiel stepped out of the closet with his selections in his hands, loving the way Dean was trying to subtly peek at what he’d chosen.

Dean stood, eager, before Castiel as the shorter man set the clothes on the bedside table. He gave Dean a quick peck on the cheek that made his baby giggle before making quick work of pulling off the purple Henley. It was soon replaced with the crop top, and Dean poked at the Bat Signal where it sat over the top of his tummy. As Dean entertained himself watching his daddy dress him, Castiel shimmied his baby boy out of his jeans, boxers, and socks. Dean was already half hard and straining against the smooth fabric of the panties by the time Castiel had them seated on his hips. As Bad Company started filtering through the small speaker, Castiel felt that he was nearly as deep in his own space as Dean was in his.

Castiel met his baby boy’s bright green eyes that were filled with the childlike adoration that made Castiel’s knees weak. He took the final item, the worn-soft collar, off of the nightstand. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut as Castiel draped the collar around his baby boy’s neck like he was coronating a king. He cinched the collar up to the third hole--bulged and stretched in the same spot--that was the perfectly snug fit Dean craved.

“Hi, baby,” Castiel said, kissing his boy’s cheek. 

“Hi, Daddy,” Dean’s glimmering eyes opened and he giggled.

“What’s our system, sweetheart?”

“Colors. Red, yellow, and green,” Dean chirped, smiling as he repeated the familiar response to the question they started all of their scenes with, “Green means ‘go’, yellow means ‘slow down, Daddy, I need to tell you something”, and red means ‘something is hurting, or I need to stop right away’.”

Castiel smiled what he knew was a gummy grin, “Good boy. What’s your color now?”

“Green, Daddy!” Dean beamed.

Castiel gave Dean one more kiss on his cheek and then moved around past him to sit on the edge of their bed.

“Come stand over here, sweetheart,” Castiel beckoned once again to the space between his spread knees. Dean nodded and eagerly stood in front of his daddy, eyes lit up and shining down. Castiel’s hands sat on the soft but narrow hips of his boy, thumbs playing with the hem of the panties, “You’re so pretty, baby boy. I love you.”

Dean blushed, looking down at his daddy’s hands.

“Love you too, Daddy,” he murmured around a smile.

Dean’s hands came to rest on Castiel’s shoulders, as Castiel often instructed him to do, and twirled a lock of hair that curled at Castiel’s ear. Dean started letting out cute, rumbly giggles as Castiel peppered his tummy with nips and kisses where it was left uncovered by the crop top.

“Daddy that tickles!” Dean cried out.

This only gave Castiel incentive to nip and kiss even more, chuckling as Dean squirmed and smiled in his hold. This was the reason Castiel so often enjoyed their Playtime as a supplement to their more typical sex life. He would never grow tired of getting to bring joy to this beautiful person he loved.

When Castiel started to nip lower and his kisses turned into small, wet sucks, Dean let out a breathy moan.

“ _Daddy…_ ”

Castiel slid his thumbs just under the waistband of the panties, smoothing over the soft skin there. He let his teeth graze over his baby’s hip bone. His lips slid down to the front of the panties and he placed a little kiss on the tiny bow directly over Dean’s flushed cock. 

“Such a good boy for me, baby.”

Dean groaned and Castiel’s hands held him firmly in place when his hips twitched forward. Castiel nosed over the growing bulge, placing kisses down and then back up his panty-covered length. Castiel teased down the top of the panties with his teeth, exposing Dean’s leaking cockhead. He swirled the flat of his tongue over it before digging into the slit with just the tip.

“Daddy!” Dean cried out.

Dean squirmed harder, obviously putting in his best effort to stay still under his daddy’s touch. Castiel inched the silk down a little further in front until he could fit the whole head of Dean’s cock in his mouth. Castiel suckled at it, continuing to tongue at the slit as more precome leaked into his mouth.

“Daddy! Daddy! Ti-- _ahh_ \--that makes me a-all _tingly_ , Daddy...”

Castiel gave one more hard suck before turning a smirk up to his baby boy’s lust-blown pupils.

“You taste so good, sweetheart.”

He resumed his ministrations with a few kitten licks before suckling once again. Dean’s legs shook and quaked, hands clutching and fingers scrabbling in the dress shirt material on Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel’s blood was hot and invigorated under his skin, and he felt himself pulsing between his legs.

“Daddy... _Daddy_ …?” Dean gasped out. He tapped at his Daddy’s shoulders. Castiel pulled back, licking his swollen lips and looked at his baby through his eyelashes.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Dean looked perfectly debauched. His cheeks rosy and freckles nearly glowing in comparison. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his face and made flyaway strands of hair stick to his forehead. His baby boy worried his lip until Castiel raised a hand up and soothed the pink flesh with the pad of his thumb. Dean immediately sucked the thumb between his full lips and let his tongue dance around it. Castiel hummed low in his chest and felt another throb between his legs. Dean released his daddy’s thumb, giving a gentle kiss to it before he spoke.

“Daddy, can I please taste _you_ now?”

As if Castiel would ever deny his boy _that_.

“Of course, baby,” He pulled the magenta panties back up over Dean’s spit-slick cock, running a finger over the wet spot and making his baby shudder beneath him. Castiel gave a parting kiss to the boy’s tummy before leaning over to grab a decorative pillow from off the bed. Dean had called the pillows ‘frou-frou’ when they bought them while Castiel had called them ‘elegant’.

Castiel set the pillow down in the space in front of Dean, “Can you please kneel for Daddy?” 

“Yes, Daddy!”

Dean sank down immediately, knees cushioned in ‘frou-frou’-ness. Castiel ran a hand through his baby’s hair now that they were nearly at eye level again, 

“Good boy. My baby is _such a good listener_. I love you, sweetheart,” Castiel cooed and Dean bashfully tipped his head forward to fall against Castiel’s chest. Castiel chuckled and kissed the top of Dean’s head, “Is somebody being shy?”

Dean nodded, setting his hands on his Daddy’s thighs and Castiel laced their fingers together.

“ _Daddy…_ ” Dean whined.

“What’s your color, love?”

“...Green,” Dean huffed, “But…”

“But?”

“But ‘s embarrassing, Daddy,” Dean burrowed further against Castiel.

“Daddy just wants to take care of you, baby boy,” Castiel said firmly but kindly, “So unless you tell me your color is red, Daddy is going to keep telling you how good you’re doing. Do you understand?”

Dean nodded, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Alright, sweetheart. We’ll keep going then,” Castiel smiled and brought their clasped hands to Dean’s cheeks to tilt his head back up, “There’s my boy.”

Dean giggled again when Castiel kissed his nose.

“Daddy…” Dean shot Castiel his best cheeky smile, green eyes damn near twinkling, “Wanna lick you now. Please? Wanna make Daddy feel all tingly, too…”

Lightning shot down to Castiel’s core at the words and he moaned. He nuzzled at his baby, nibbling his ear just to hear him gasp. Then, Castiel made quick work of his own pants, drenched boxers, and socks. He tilted his hips upward, leaning back on one hand and letting the other lovingly thread his fingers into the short hair at the back of Dean’s neck.

His baby boy met him with sinfully dark eyes as he scratched blunt nails lightly through the coarse, trim hair above Castiel’s sex. Castiel shivered much to Dean’s amusement. Dean grinned from ear to ear as he nestled his head down between his Daddy’s legs and sucked at the pulsing nub of flesh there. Dean spread his free fingers around the nub, parting the folds so he could lick harder and suck closer.

Castiel threw his head back and cried out at the sensation. Dean had done this to him so many times and in a dozen different positions, but it never ceased to amaze him how talented and goddamn perfect Dean’s tongue was.

“Fuck!” Castiel groaned, “ _God_...you feel _so good_ , baby boy…”

Dean hummed happily as he increased his pace, sending out vibrations that felt like they might jolt Castiel out of his skin. 

Castiel did his best to keep his hold in his baby’s hair tight in the way that Dean loved and not vice-like, but with each stroke of Dean’s tongue squirming further into Castiel’s folds it was becoming an increasingly difficult task. 

“So-- _uhhhhh_ \--so beautiful like this, sweetheart…” Castiel panted, “Make me... _ohhh_ \--gettin’ Daddy _so close_ , love.”

Dean slurped obscenely and lapped at Castiel like he was trying to catch ice cream dripping down a cone. Castiel’s thighs squeezed tighter around his baby’s beautiful, freckled shoulders. His mind was going fuzzy and he could swear he could hear his blood pumping in his veins as it pooled low in his abdomen. His skin buzzed, and his sex felt thick and ready to burst.

“You taste so good, Daddy!” Dean sighed happily, tonguing flicking over Castiel with increasing vigor.

Castiel felt his body ratchet up like a mechanical wind-up toy. God, he was _almost there_. Castiel’s eyes dropped down to the walking wet dream kneeling between his legs. Brilliant, kind, mesmerizing green eyes looked up at him like he hung the moon. Dean nuzzled his cheek against his Daddy’s thigh, and moaned against him like _this_ , right here with Castiel, was his baby boy’s heaven.

“Ba-- _ahhhh…!_ ” Castiel came with a cry.

His thighs squeezed tight and he felt the pulsing of his sex radiate all the way down to his toes. Dean kept up soft kitten licks until Castiel tipped over into oversensitivity and tapped his baby’s cheek to move away.

Dean sat back with a content sigh, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips. Castiel gave a breathy chuckle when the hasty sweep of Dean’s tongue did almost nothing to clean all the slick from his chin.

Once Castiel was only slightly breathless he pulled his baby’s head closer and grabbed a Kleenex from the nightstand drawer and wiped away the mess he’d made. Dean’s face scrunched up adorably at being cleaned up, the same way it always did when Castiel gave his baby boy a bath--at least until Castiel got out the plastic army men for Dean to splash around with.

“Thank you, baby boy, you took such good care of Daddy,” Castiel smiled, nuzzling their cheeks together. Dean eagerly scooted his face closer until Castiel happily indulged his boy in a kiss, licking into Dean’s mouth to taste himself.

Castiel stood up on only slightly shaky legs and pulled his baby boy up to his feet by their clasped hands. Dean winced a little at the creak his knees made and Castiel added ‘leg massage’ to his mental aftercare list. Once Dean was standing, Castiel closed the minimal distance between them to kiss and nip at his baby’s jaw.

“Mhmm, you did so well for me, love,” Castiel murmured and relished the hitch in Dean’s breath, “Such a sweet boy. So loving.”

Castiel aimed his kisses lower, sucking little marks along the column of his baby boy’s stubbly throat. Dean let out a guttural sound and his hips twitched forward, seeking out friction. Dean was rock hard in his pretty panties, clothed cock nudging into the dip of Castiel’s hip bone. Castiel played with the crop-top hem at the small of Dean’s back and chuckled at his baby’s eagerness. He shifted himself closer to give Dean a more solid surface to rub up against. Dean hissed at the improvement and picked up his pace, wrapping his arms tightly around his daddy’s shoulders.

“Did that get you hard, sweetheart?” Castiel whispered against Dean’s ear.

“ _Yes_... _Daddy_ …” Dean gasped.

“Did you like sucking Daddy off? You like watching Daddy’s face when I come on your pretty tongue?”

Dean groaned and nodded fiercely, burying his head into the crook of Castiel’s neck. He rutted faster but gave a frustrated whimper.

“That’s enough teasing, huh, baby boy?” Castiel kissed Dean’s temple, “Do you want Daddy’s hands or Daddy’s mouth?”

This time Dean’s whimper was one of delight.

“C-Can you finger me, Daddy? Wanna you feel you in me when I come…” Dean whined.

If Castiel wasn’t only a few minutes off of a body-numbing orgasm, that surely would’ve restarted the throbbing between his legs. Instead, Castiel felt a warm swoop of affection in his stomach for his baby and how grateful he was that they got to share this.

“Of course, love,” Castiel said, “Hop up on the bed.”

Dean moved out of Castiel’s arms with hesitance like it physically ached him to let go of his daddy when he needed him, even if it was just for a moment. Dean sprawled out on the light-yellow comforter, cock pleading for attention where it lay stiff against his belly. Castiel grabbed one of the thick towels they kept in the bottom drawer of their dresser for this express purpose, and fished the Astroglide out of the nightstand, closing the drawer with his hip. He set the lube down on the opposite side of Dean, tapping his baby’s side to get him to lift up. Castiel made quick work of tucking a towel-wrapped pillow under Dean’s backside. Lastly, he slid the come-soaked panties off of his baby’s legs, throwing them to the ground where Dean’s big clothes were still piled up. 

Castiel would never admit to Dean that the collection of panties was probably his favorite thing in their Playtime wardrobe. The silkier and lacier the better had appeared to be Dean’s motto whenever he purchased a new pair. And while, undoubtedly, Dean wore those panties like a god among men, they were Castiel’s favorite for a different reason. Dean’s love of panties had a sexual component to it for sure, but sometimes his husband just wore the panties when they were lazing around at home together or when he had to make a quick weekend run to the grocery store. Castiel loved nothing more than Saturday mornings when they’d cuddle and watch a movie while Castiel kept one hand down the back of Dean’s flannel pants--just feeling the smooth fabric and loving that Dean trusted him with this piece of himself. Dean and his panties had been in a silent battle for years before he and Cas even got together. And when Dean had confessed his love-shame relationship with the undergarments he kept in a secret stash in the back of his closet, Castiel had encouraged the shit out of it. Castiel knew what it was like to feel like you were stuck in a box someone else had put you in, how suffocating and maddening it was to always keep a piece of yourself under lock and key. But he also knew how inexplicably freeing it was to finally give the world the middle finger and just explore who you are and what you like for _you_ , and not anyone else. Castiel loved that _Dean_ loved himself in the panties-- _that’s_ why they were his favorite.

“Are you comfy, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“What’s your color?”

“Green, Daddy. Wan’ you to touch me _so bad_ …” Dean squirmed in place.

“I’ve got you, love,” Castiel cooed.

He climbed up onto the bed, shuffling on his knees until he settled in on Dean’s side. Castiel propped himself up on an elbow and looked down into Dean’s desperate, lust-blown eyes. His baby nuzzled at whatever part Dean could reach as Castiel opened the Astroglide and squirted some onto his fingers.

Dean puffed out a harsh breath against Castiel’s collarbone when Castiel _finally, finally, finally_ circled his slick index finger around the tight ring of muscle. Dean’s hole twitched beneath Castiel’s fingers and his baby let out a soft moan in relief.

“You did so well today, baby,” Castiel muttered against Dean’s sweaty temple, “You’re my good boy, aren’t you?”

“Ye-- _uggghh…_!” Dean cried out when Castiel’s lubed-up finger slid all the way home, “Your good boy, Daddy! O-Only yours!” 

Dean gasped and shuddered as Castiel slowly began working the finger in and out at a slow but steady clip.

“All mine, baby boy. My honor only to take care of you like this. Only Daddy gets to make you come on his fingers like this, right baby?” Castiel said, starting to nibble at Dean’s ear just as he added another finger.

A gratifying pleasure thrummed throughout Castiel’s body at every breathtaking sound he pulled out of his baby boy. Every cry and moan Dean made was a gift for his ears only. 

Dean writhed and twisted when Castiel slid in a third finger with minimal resistance. His boy howled and moaned like he couldn’t possibly get enough. Castiel fisted a rougher hand in his baby’s hair that had Dean crying out and involuntarily throwing his head back, mouth slack and eyes squeezed shut. It was time for Castiel’s--not so--secret weapon.

He angled his practiced fingers towards Dean’s prostate and stroked it like it held the secrets of the universe.

“ _Daddy!_ ” Dean’s hips bucked up sharply and he thrashed in place as Castiel continued his choreographed assault. 

“Are you gonna be a good boy and come on Daddy’s fingers, sweetheart? Gonna get your chest all sticky with the mess you’ll make?”

“Yes, Daddy-- _ahhhhh_! _Please, Daddy…!_ ”

Dean’s hands flew up and wrapped around his Daddy, pulling them close enough to feel their hearts hammering together. Dean’s shaky breaths sent chills down Castiel’s spine and he sped up his jackhammering fingers and sucked at the sensitive skin of his baby’s neck.

“Love you so much, baby boy,” Castiel said between nips, “Come for me, sweetheart.”

Dean’s entire body tensed and spasmed, and a silent cry left his mouth in a tight ‘O’. Dean shook violently as he came across his chest in thick ropes, gasping into Castiel’s shoulder like his daddy had just switched his lungs back on to full capacity. Castiel continued stroking in his boy’s tight heat until Dean whimpered in his ear and he stilled his fingers. 

“ _Daddy…_ ” Dean sighed.

Castiel propped himself up a little bit on his elbows to give his baby plenty of breathing room, but Dean just pulled him back down onto the sticky mess on his tummy to bury his face in his daddy’s neck. Castiel chuckled against Dean’s sweaty hair, dropping a kiss on the side of his head.

“How’re you doing, baby boy?” Castiel asked.

“ _Daddy…_ ” Dean tried, but words still seemed to be escaping him.

“I gotcha, sweetheart. Just take your time and take deep breaths.” 

Castiel held his boy close until Dean’s muscles all seemed to simultaneously turn to gelatin, arms sliding off of his daddy. When Castiel pulled himself up onto his elbows once again he met no resistance. Dean’s expression was slack and blissed out and he giggled drunkenly as Castiel peppered his cheeks with kisses.

“Tickles...Daddy…” Dean sighed.

Castiel dropped one more kiss on his baby’s forehead for good measure then scooted back off the bed to get them cleaned up.

“You did such a good job, baby boy. I’m so proud of you,” Castiel cooed as he unwrapped the pillow and towel, using the towel’s edges to clean up the tacky lube between Dean’s legs. 

“Love you, Daddy,” Dean hummed, eyes still loosely closed as Castiel cleaned him.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Castiel chuckled.

He brought the other edge of the towel up to his baby’s belly, wiping away the drying come. When Dean jolted in the bed and let out a peal of laughter Castiel realized that he’d accidentally tickled Dean.

“Did that tickle, baby?” Castiel let loose his own bubble of laughter at the sounds Dean made as Castiel wiggled his fingers all around Dean’s torso. Dean huffed out another large breath and beamed at his Daddy.

Castiel threw the soiled towel in the laundry basket in the corner and went over to the dresser, pulling on a pair of boxers and swapped out his dirty dress shirt for a Def Leppard t-shirt he most definitely had _not_ stolen from Dean.

“Do you want another pair of panties or your cowboy undies?” Castiel called out from the closet where he squatted next to their Playtime box.

“Cowboys!” Dean softly cheered.

Castiel came back out of the closet to find innocent, emerald green eyes watching him return. Dean wore a dopey grin as Castiel removed the come-splattered crop top and shimmied the briefs with the cartoon cowboys up around Dean’s hips--being gentle, of course, when tucking his sensitive cock into the underwear. He moved down to his baby’s hairy legs and rubbed at the muscles upon remembering Dean’s wince from earlier. While Castiel was powerless to turn back the clock on the cartilage in his baby’s knees, he could certainly massage some of the tightness out of Dean’s thighs before they started to bother him like they sometimes did. When Castiel surmised that he’d worked out the majority of the kinks he placed a kiss on each knee and stood back up.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Dean’s voice was a little choked and his eyes were a little misty as he looked at Castiel, “ _Thank you_.”

It wasn’t unusual for Dean to get a little emotional during or after a scene. It had taken a while--and a few conversations with his husband--for Castiel to realize that Dean could get overwhelmed by the ‘warm and fuzzies’ (as he called them) pretty easily when they were scening. The smoothest way forward was _through_.

“Suppertime, sweetheart?” 

Castiel wiped Dean’s eyes and gave him a quick peck on his cheek. 

Dean nodded and ran the back of his thumbnail over the soft smile of that now played on his lips.

He hopped back into bed, sitting up against the headboard behind Dean and spread out his legs on either side of him. He grabbed his baby by the shoulders and pulled him up, grateful that Dean still had the presence of mind to realize that Castiel needed help scooching him back.

Dean settled against Castiel’s t-shirt covered chest, resting his head at his daddy's collarbone and Castiel grabbed up the hummus and pita chips first off the nightstand. He dipped and fed chips to the both of them, cooing as Dean nibbled happily at the coated pieces Castiel gave him. 

“Ready for your applesauce?” Castiel asked once they’d nearly emptied the chip bag.

“Yes, Daddy,” Dean smiled.

Castiel had grabbed two applesauce cups from the kitchen and now tore the tin lid off the first one. He picked up the _Frozen_ baby spoon and heaped a big dollop onto it. He buzzed and whirred like an airplane as he brought the bite into Dean’s waiting mouth. His baby gobbled up every sweet drop and giggled at the faces Castiel made. Castiel brought a bite of the applesauce to his own lips and Dean lovingly patted his cheek as he slurped. When the miniature spoon scraped out the last bite and he brought it to Dean’s lips, Castiel’s baby boy looked like he was starting to grow a little dewy eyed once again.

Getting near tears twice this close together was not normal. He was more than likely toeing the line of his head spaces and that was what was causing him duress. Castiel set the empty cup and spoon on the nightstand then pulled the blankets up around them, still cradling his baby boy to his chest. 

“I love you so, _so_ much,” Castiel said, choosing to leave it up to Dean whether the words were coming from his daddy or his husband, “What’s your color?”

Green eyes turned glassy and Dean buried his face into Castiel’s t-shirt. He let out small breathy sounds like he was trying to hold back, “ _Red_.”

“I’ve got you, it’s okay,” Castiel murmured into Dean’s sandy blond hair. He rubbed small circles over Dean’s bare back and pulled the blanket into even more of a cocoon around them, “What happened today?”

“It was…” his husband’s voice rasped in its regular, Big Dean register, still muffled against Castiel, and he cleared his throat, “It--huh, it wasn’t even a big deal, Cas…”

Dean kept his eyes shut like he wasn’t quite sure which lens he wanted to look at the world through and had decided not to look at all.

“Whatever it was...it was obviously a big deal to _you_ , Dean, and that’s why I care about it.”

“Just...my dad called.”

“Oh?”

Red-hot anger flashed in Castiel’s stomach. He swallowed his anger down though, Dean needed love—not anger. He’d already experienced not enough of one and far too much of the other.

“He, uh, he called me when I was on my lunch break to wish me a happy birthday today…”

“...And it’s not your birthday,” Castiel sighed, wrapping his arms a little tighter around his love.

“When I, uh,” Dean let out a humorless laugh and his eyes squeezed a little tighter, “When I told him that, no, it was not actually my birthday we got into a fight. He got defensive and actually tried to _argue_ with me on it for a second there. Like, _dude_ , I know when my own fuckin’ birthday is, even if _you_ don’t…” Castiel kissed his husband’s forehead and let him continue, “Then we got to fighting about how he had to cancel on his big trip out to Sammy’s--”

“Asshole,” Castiel muttered.

“I know right! And I could give two fucks if he had to cancel if he was visiting us or something but--Cas, Sam’s been so excited about this…”

Dean wiped at his eyes when a few more tears slipped out.

“I know, baby,” Castiel said.

“And Sam and Rowena were so looking forward to Jack _finally_ getting to meet his grandpa...and now…” Dean huffed out a sigh and curled a little closer to his husband, “I mean--it’s not even _close_ to the worst thing he’s ever done...but I just get so _mad_ at him still...”

In the lull that Castiel let wrap around them Dean’s eyes fluttered shut again and Castiel realized for the first time in nearly an hour that Dean’s playlist was still thrumming along. Castiel sighed and looked down at Dean. He looked _exhausted_.

“I’m so sorry, Dean, I wish I could help you,” Cas said wistfully and carded a hand through Dean’s hair, his husband keening into the touch.

“Not your fault, man,” Dean opened his eyes again with a sad smile, “Honestly, I couldn’t wait to get home and see you. You _have_ been helping me. You’ve been the best part of an otherwise _seriously_ shitty day.”

Castiel kissed his husband slowly and gently, then pulled him into a hug.

“I’m glad I could help then, Dean,” Castiel spoke against his husband’s hair.

Dean chuckled and kissed Castiel’s ear, “You always help, buddy.”

Just then, the eerie opening chords of “Father Figure” belted out in the now-too-quiet room.

“ _Uggh_ ,” Dean groaned and Castiel threw his head back in a laugh, “change it, change it. _Skip_. God, _enough_ daddy issues for today,” Dean wrestled out of the blanket and grabbed for Castiel’s phone on the nightstand as George Michael’s smooth voice hit the air. He hit ‘skip’ and the song immediately cut to much more familiar, electric notes, “Now that’s what I’m talking about! Nothing like a little Zepp to flush out the mind, body, and soul, Cas.”

Dean shimmied back down into the cocoon of the blankets with Castiel, a sated smile adorning his features and reflected in his husband’s.

_There's an angel on my shoulder, in my hand a sword of gold_

_Let me wander in your garden and the seeds of love I'll sow you know_

“Love ya, Cas.”

“I love you too, Dean.”


End file.
